Zebra print bedsheets, your hands slipping on the satin of my dress, an undramatic sunrise, a mess of unsmoked menthols, a pout that bites and sulks, my hand in your hair, your hand holding my heels, green grass on our side, smudged kajal and a stained heart.
Your voice burns holes in my memory but you see me in still images –stuck- light edged eyes fixed on you, long chocolate legs crossed lazily, black painted nails reaching out for you and a smile that cracks my face in half. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A figment of imagination doesn’t feel, right? You wouldn’t want it any other way.
Your voice burns holes in my memory but you see me in still images –stuck- light edged eyes fixed on you, long chocolate legs crossed lazily, black painted nails reaching out for you and a smile that cracks my face in half. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A figment of imagination doesn’t feel, right? You wouldn’t want it any other way.
So together we’ll live in indecision, indifference and with an incision on our hearts.
Yours deeper, brighter, a slash of what you never had.
Mine, a secret slit.
2 comments:
I can't even tell you how MUCH I love this one. It all fits. It's perfect. The thoughts. The words that depict them. Hit me REAL hard. Especially after our conversation today in the cab, and fuck that. Every insightful theory of ours, everything. At least it's of SOME use :P
I quote you. Go see my facebook status.
:)
It just so seems that our lives run parallel. And we don't steal. We make life famous :P
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